


Unfortunate Inheritance

by sans_souci2



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Graphic Description, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-07
Updated: 2012-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-29 03:22:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/315257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sans_souci2/pseuds/sans_souci2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wo Fat wants revenge. Since the person he wants it from is dead, he moves down the list.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unfortunate Inheritance

Title: Unfortunate Inheritance  
Rating: NC-17  
Genre- slash, non consensual,  
Characters: Steve/Wo Fat, then later Steve/Danny  
Summary: A dark spin off after ep 1-13; Wo Fat wants revenge.  
Disclaimer: Don't own any of this  
Warning: Involves graphic involves mistreatment and rape (referred to, not depicted) Please don't read if it doesn't sound like your kind of fic.  
_____~_____

Steve knows it’s going to bad even before he opens his eyes.

Worse than bad.

His head is pounding but it’s the splinter digging into his backside that finally drags him to the surface. Shifting to get away from it isn’t an option-not the way he’s trussed to the chair.

Head still down, he forces his eyes open.

Shit. Seeing so much bare skin, _his_ bare skin, makes him cringe.

Lifting up his head doesn’t improve the view or the sick feeling gripping his gut. Danny’s gagged and handcuffed to a pipe on the other side of the room. For the first time since he’s known him, he looks scared. At least he still has his clothes on. It should come as a consolation but the frightened expression on his face takes the wind out of that sail.

______~______

“Ah, Mr. McGarrett- I see you’re waking up."

The voice is coming from behind him so he has no idea who’s talking. He knows there are several people walking toward him from the sounds their shoes make on the concrete floor. His skin seems to know something else the way it suddenly dimples with goose flesh. “Who ...are you? What do you want?” The words are out of his mouth before he can stop himself.

God damn his voice for being so shaky.

Wo Fat steps into his periphery, hanging back just enough so that he has to twist his neck to make eye contact. Impeccably dressed, he looks different than he did on the golf course- more sophisticated, more worldly. The hungry way his eyes roam over Steve's body fuels the same seething reaction his father must have had for the bastard.

"Have you made the connection, McGarrett?"

"If you mean do I remember where I heard your name before, yes."

"So your father spoke of me?"

A disgusted response would normally come effortlessly but he’s suddenly finding it hard to put even a few words together. Something about facing an adversary wearing nothing more than some rope seems to be getting in the way.

Funny thing.

“Yes… he spoke of you,” thank God his voice is stronger, “and trust me, not in glowing terms.”

Wo Fat looks pleased, “I’m not surprised you share your father’s bravado, McGarrett, it’s one of the things I always admired about him.”

"Admired?” Steve has to swallow hard after he says it, “You have a funny way of showing admiration-how many times was it you tried to kill him?”

“No more than he did me. We were in opposite camps- you know the lay of that land. No matter what our differences, they were never enough to keep me from genuinely admiring him. I can still picture his clenched jaw every time I had him on the ropes-always acting as if he still had the upper hand, I definitely see a lot of him in you."

"Well, I'm pretty sure you didn't kidnap my partner and I just to reminisce about my father- what the hell do you want, Wo Fat?"

"What do I want?” He takes his time, adjusting his cuffs so that they are exactly even, then, inspecting his nails before looking up, “ What I want, McGarrett, is for you to make good on your father's debt to me.”

Steve suddenly can barely think. Wo Fat's parked directly in front of him. Now he's reaching out with one hand. Without a word, as if it's his God given right the bastard starts trailing his fingers down Steve's chest, stopping to circle around his naval and then slowly twirl and tease his way through the dark curly hair below it. It’s all Steve can do to take a ragged breath and squeeze his eyes shut.

 _And pray that Danny’s are closed too._

Before he can exhale, Wo Fat changes direction, dragging surprisingly soft finger tips across his belly. He can’t help it, he has to open his eyes. Wo Fat’s broad hand smoothing over his stomach, his gold cuff links sparkling against crisp white cuffs is one of the most sickening sights he's ever seen.

“Hmm, very nice, Commander, very taut.” Wo Fat sounds more like a wine connoisseur than the sick bastard he is, “You must work hard to stay in such excellent shape?”

 _Does he really expect an answer?_

A drain in the floor catches Steve’s eye. It’s cover has four slats in it, each one blocked with scum. He makes it his focal point-begging it to take his mind where it needs to be.

“Do you?”

He honestly never even hears the question.

Suddenly Wo Fat’s hand is between his legs squeezing his dick so hard he screams.

“I asked you a question, McGarrett! Do you work out to stay in such excellent shape?”

“Y…es !”

Wo Fat loosens his grip but continues to regard him expectantly.

“Yes, I … work out.”

“That’s better.” Wo Fat pulls a chair over and sits down facing Steve. His sharply creased trousers brush against Steve’s bare legs; his palms rest on Steve's thighs, “And after your workout-how do you reward yourself? I've always found sex to be an effective way to unwind. Do you agree?”

It's the last place he wants this conversation to go but there's no way he’s going to give Wo Fat an excuse to manhandle him again, “Y…yes.”

“Ah, good. A man like you must need a release almost daily I would guess.” As he's talking, Wo Fat begins to inch his thumb and forefinger along Steve’s penis," Am I right ?"

“Y…yes.” It’s all he can do to choke out the word. He feels like he’s losing his mind- like he’s suddenly starring in some kind of perverted porn flick. _How in God’s name can his dick be getting hard?_

“The reason I ask, Commander, is I’m wondering if you ever imagined what it would be like to be denied that release?”

Okay so now a shit storm is careening straight for him and he has no where to run, “N…no.”

“But you know why I’m asking, don’t you?”

“Not really.”

“Of course you do- I’m sure it was one of your father’s favorite daydreams- imagining what my new friends at Halawa were doing to me.”

“Trust me... it wasn’t."

“Oh really? Well how about you? Now that I bring it up, are you wondering what my time was like in our island's esteemed correctional facility?"

“I …hate to …disappoint you.”

Wo Fat leans in so that their faces are only inches apart, “Well let me tell you anyway- every day was pure hell and every day I vowed your father would pay for sending me there.”

He desperately tries to block out Wo Fat’s voice.

No such luck.

“Regrettably, his death makes it impossible for him to pay his debt and places you first in line to do it for him– a kind of unfortunate inheritance, if you will.”

“God damn you Wo Fat- I had nothing to do with what happened to you.”

"True, it was your father who built the case against me that kept me in Halawa for eight long years. But, then, just a day ago, it was you who sent one of my closest business partners to the same place, probably for even longer. I say you more than deserve to get a taste of how men take care of their natural urges while incarcerated.”

“Well you're wrong! Whatever you plan to do to me and what happened to you are two different things.“

“Oh really? And how is that? Is it because you and I won’t be strangers rutting and grunting against each other- that we know quite a bit about each other?”

It’s impossible for Steve not to strain against the ropes crisscrossing his body.

“Is that it McGarrett?”

He barely hears the question. He’s found the drain again and is staring at it for all he’s worth.

“McGarrett!”

Four slats, each one caked with scum.

 _Take me away._

 _Please._

This time the punishment for not answering is much worse.

Wo Fat’s fingers tighten and before he can brace himself, his ball sack is being violently twisted. The pain that shoots up into his belly is indescribable. Instead of the vomit that threatens, a loud, ragged scream claws its way out of his throat. Eyes wide open, he barely sees anything through the haze of pain.

“Am I right, Commander?”

He honestly doesn’t hear him.

“Am I right?”

“N….o…. you’re wrong!” Flecks of saliva fly out with the sputtered words.

“Then enlighten me, please.” Wo Fat’s hand reverts back to a still hellish but gentler caress.

He needs to catch his breath and unclench his jaw-his fingers and toes too. His bottom is slick with sweat when he shifts on the chair. Not meaning to, not even thinking, he looks down. The sight of Wo Fat’s hand firmly encamped between his legs sickens him.  
The bastard’s polite conversational tone as he fingers Steve's balls makes it only worse, “Please, I‘d like to know, McGarrett, why is it you think my fucking you will be any different than what I endured?"

“For one thing, you deserved every cock that plowed into you!”

Wo Fat’s hand stops what it’s doing; his expression goes blank. Only the vein throbbing next to his temple gives any indication of his rage.

His utter silence is truly frightening.

Suddenly, like a bull whip, the back of his hand comes across McGarrett’s cheek, hard and fast, snapping his head back and drawing blood from the corner of his mouth.

It hurts but Steve welcomes it. At least it’s clean pain- delivered and received and done with-nothing like the ungodly foreplay he’s been enduring.

Wo Fat’s slightly breathless, “I’d be careful if I were you Commander, it’s hardly in your best interest to antagonize me.”

“I’ll … keep … that in mind.” His jaw feels rubbery and he tastes blood. The good news is that he’s given Wo Fat a reason to finally let go of him. Encouraged by the meager progress, he goes for more, “So I get that …you’re going to do whatever you want to me. I get that …you’re pissed I sent Hesse to prison and that my father did the same to you. But all of this is between you and me - my partner has nothing to do with it – please, let him go.”

Wo Fat’s slowly evolving smile says no before the first word is out of his mouth. “How very commendable of you, McGarrett, always looking out for your men.” Glancing at Danny, “I’d like to do as you ask but I really can’t. You see, your friend has a very important role in all of this -”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“What I’m talking about is that, despite a recent visit by my men to your home and your sister’s home, certain pieces of evidence your father collected are still missing. If, heaven forbid, these items were to wind up in the wrong hands, I could go back to jail. I’m sure you understand, and will understand even better in a short while, how crucial it is to make sure that doesn't happen?”

He nods, not in any way agreeing.

“That's where your partner enters the equation, I’m sure that with him in mind, you’ll be able to find what I'm looking for.”

“Wh…at ?” He barely understands what's being asks of him," What are you saying?"

“Very simply, this. When I’m finished with you, my men will take you to your home, or wherever you ask them to, in order to recover the evidence I suspect you've hidden. Detective Williams will be your motivation to return here with it, quickly. If you fail to, I’m afraid that although unrelated to the famed McGarrett clan by blood, your partner will be next in line to inherit what you're about to.”

“You….bas….tard!”

“Careful Commander-you don’t want me to be angry when, what was the phrase you used? This plows into you." He grips the bulge in his slacks appreciatively, watching with child-like anticipation for his effect.

He’s not disappointed.

“I can see this is a bit difficult for you, Steven. Perhaps we should just get on with it?” He slowly takes his suit coat off, making a point of carefully draping it over a chair As he unbuckles his belt, his voice turns husky, “ Don’ t worry, I promise to be gentle.”

Oh God.

The fact that it’s about to happen washes over him as Wo Fat drops his belt on the floor and begins to undo his trousers. He sees Wo Fat unzip his pants and reach in and hears a throaty grunt as he frees his engorged cock.

He doesn’t flinch.

He’s been on the receiving end of more kinds of torture than he can count – this won’t be anywhere near the worst of them, he tells himself.

“Get him on that table -over there! ” Wo Fat strokes himself purposely as he gestures towards a rickety workbench.

Not anywhere near the worst, he tells himself again.

He tries to believe it but as Wo Fat’s men start to undo the ropes around his wrists and ankles, bile fills his mouth. When they loosen the ones around his chest and waist their appreciative groping makes him break out in a cold sweat.

Thank God when they yank him to his feet and point him toward the wooden workbench it finally kicks in. Like a powerful engine turning over after a string of false starts, his ingrained training begins to win out over panic. He notices a fire extinguisher on the wall and stares at it as he’s pushed forward. He feels his penis bob heavily against his thigh but ignores it. Hands are all over him, pushing his back, slapping his ass; he wants to bat them away but his arms are being twisted behind his back.

It’s okay.

He lets himself be steered toward the table refusing to look in Danny’s direction. They stop at the foot of the table and push on his shoulders until he bends over. His chest is suddenly flat against the rough wooden surface. His arms are pulled over his head and his wrists are being tied down again.

It’s going to happen.

It’s okay.

He’s got one move left to make.

One that’s gotten him through shit worse than this.

He lets his cheek settle against the table and his shoulders go slack. He feels someone kick his legs apart and start to lash his ankles to the table’s legs. Instead of fighting them, he takes a slow deep breath.

There’s a rusted sink on the wall he's facing. Water is dripping from the faucet. If he stares hard enough he can make out each drop forming before it falls.

Footsteps come toward him from behind.

No one says a word.

It’s time to disappear into that place in his head.

Now.

______~______

They rush in and cut him down so fast Danny doesn’t have time to brace for the pain that shoots through his arms. It’s enough to drop him to his knees but he pushes away the man in front of him. He doesn’t need help- he just needs to get to Steve. He can barely see as he careens towards him. The rage that’s powering him is like nothing he’s ever felt. Hands clenched into fists, eyes blazing, he hurls himself at the two unsuspecting men freeing McGarrett’s arms. “Get the hell away from him!” It’s more than a scream- it’s a full-blown bellow, so raw and full of pain it silences the entire room.

Confused, the paramedics straighten up but don’t budge.

He pushes the nearest one away with a shove to his sternum, “You heard me –I mean it!”

Now everyone in the room is looking at him like he’s crazy but he’s not and he knows it. Steve’s trembling back is his proof – pinkish-red palm prints on his buttocks practically scream it out.

They should have covered him up, first thing.

“Detective, please we need to,”

“The only thing you need to do is let my partner regain a little God damn dignity and you’re doing a lousy job of it!” Pushing the man with more force than maybe he should have sends him sprawling on the floor.

“He’s right gentlemen, please give them some room.”

Thank you Chin.

Danny's vaguely aware of Chin herding the men away as he grabs a blanket off their gurney and drapes it over Steve and leans down so that his mouth is against his ear, “It’s over babe- I'm going to get you out of here, okay?” He keeps his voice calm even though his chest feels like it's about to burst. McGarrett gives him what looks like a weak nod but it could have been a flinch. It’s hard to tell the way his cheek is still pressed against the table. For sure the tremor running down his back is turning into full-fledged shivering. Grabbing scissors off the table, he cuts the rope away from his ankles then stands behind him, sliding both hands under his ribcage and literally scooping him off the table into a standing position.

Steve's body sways-sweaty dead weight that Danny has to hold onto to keep upright, “I've got you ... you’re okay. “ It’s a colossal lie that's followed up with another one- for some reason he can't stop spouting them off, “Don’t worry, you’re all right." McGarrett shows no sign of hearing him anyway. The only indication that he knows what’s going on is the way he keeps trying to pull the blanket around himself.

“Here you go," Danny does it for him, "There, you’re good." Standing behind him and holding onto the blanket, Danny steers him toward the corner of the room. There’s a battered wooden desk and ratty chair pushed up against the wall and like everything else in the God forsaken place, the chair’s filthy but it’ll have to do. He kicks it out from the desk so that it’s facing away from the room and eases McGarrett into it. “ Okay buddy, just sit here a minute. There you go.”

Steve grunts when his bottom makes contact with the ripped upholstery. His head comes up and his eyes lock with Danny's for one agonizing second.

Oh God.

Danny holds his breath. Like a brand searing his soul, Steve's look burns itself into his brain. Its excruciating blend of pain and humiliation and helplessness, the likes of which Danny has never seen on another man's face. A pained hitch in Steve's breathing pulls Danny closer .The shivering is worse; he's almost too pale to even be conscious. Suddenly the whole leave-us-alone game plan seems risky.

“You sure you don’t need the paramedics, Steve? “

“ N…no, no way. ”

That shaky hoarse voice is something Danny's never heard from Steve before.

“I just … need my clothes, and then to get the … hell out of here.” Pulling the blanket tighter, Steve bends over. Elbows propped on his knees and holding his head in his hands, the only thing he’s seeing, if his eyes are even open, is the filthy cement floor.

 

It takes all Danny has not to lean down and wrap his arms around him, “ I saw your … clothes over there, just sit tight, I’ll be right back.”  
_______~_______

 

“Danny! How is he?”

Chin's voice startles him as he reaches for Steve’s other shoe. He stands up quickly, clutching his bloodied shirt and pants in one hand and shoe in the other. Steve's boxer briefs lay in tatters on the floor where he dropped them a second after picking them up. For some insane reason he's embarrassed and toes them under the chair. There’s an unplanned defensiveness to his answer, “How do you think he is after what that bastard did to him.”

“So did he-?” Chin chokes on the word, searching Danny’s face for the answer.

"Yeah he raped him." Hot tears well up in Danny's eyes.

“The bastard.” The tremor in Chin’s voice and sickened look on his face instantly erase Danny's defensiveness. As they both steal a glance at McGarrett’s still hunched form, Chin gives Danny's shoulder a firm squeeze. When he steps back, his eyes are glistening, “ You tell him we had to use more than a little force to get Wo Fat in the squad car -okay?”

“I… will. Look, I need to get him the hell out of here. Can you handle things?"

“Absolutely. I’ll get your statements tomorrow or whenever -we’ve got more than we need to book these guys.” Stealing another glance at Steve, “Listen, my jeep is next to the loading dock just outside that door, there’s a blanket in the back seat” he reaches in his pocket, “Here, you'll need these. Go. Get him to the hospital.”

Danny takes the keys but shakes his head, “No, I’m taking him home – if he needs a doctor, I’ll get Daniels to come to the house.”

Chin’s eyebrows shoot up, “You think that’s safe?”

“It may or may not be, but doing it any other way is only going to put him through more misery.”

Chin’s not convinced but nods, “So you have Daniels’ contact info?”

“Yeah, McGarrett made me memorize it last time I called EMS. He made me swear that unless he was two minutes from dying I’d call Daniels instead.”

They both laugh shakily. Hugh Daniels was the private physician assigned to look after HPD’s highest-ranking officers. Trust McGarrett to have wrangled him into his corner.

“You want me to give Daniels a heads up?”

“No. I don’t want him in the picture at all unless I need him.”

“Okay, but if things change …if you need help-if you need anything, you call me.”

“I will.”

“Okay – get going brah.”

He’s already sprinting toward Steve.

_____~_______

 

Two hours later.

They’ve been home long enough for Danny to have gotten Steve in the shower and into bed and forced a hefty shot of scotch in him. When the scotch does very little to erase the grimace on his face, Danny gently rolls him onto his side to find out why.

“Steve, I think we better call Daniels.”

“W…why ?” he shifts around looking anxious and if possible paler.

“You’re… still bleeding, not a lot but you may need a stich or two.”

“Oh God.” Steve looks utterly mortified.

“You might not, Daniels might be able to stop it some other way …we just need him to take a look. You okay with me calling him?”

He can barely hear Steve when he whispers, Yes.

 

_______~________

 

Four hours later

Danny pulls the curtains closed and turns on a small lamp, not worried it might wake Steve- not after the amount of morphine Daniels hit him with. For a few minutes he stays busy cleaning up the remnants of the long house call. Like flotsam and debris washed up on the beach, ripped packaging and gauze screams out how wicked the storm was.

Daniels had offered to help clean up but he sent him off as soon as he finished with Steve.

He needed to be alone.

The water in the glass bowl is cool and red tinged . He cringes as he scoops squares of gauze out before pouring it down the drain. Taking the plastic liner from the trash basket, he heads back into the bedroom, for some reason, stopping to read some of the labels on the trash he picks up -Sterile Gauze, Silver Nitrate Cautery Sticks, Packing Strips-¼ x5 inch, Disposable Syringe-5ml. Each item triggers a replay of what Daniels had done. Danny sees Daniels leaning over Steve, murmuring apologies and promising to be fast. He squeezes his eyes shut to turn the images off but can’t. The worst thing is the way Steve held himself so still no matter what Daniels did do to him. Barely making a sound, hands clutching fistfuls of sheet, he just laid there and took every horrible minute of it .

Once the room is picked up Danny inventories everything Daniels left on the dresser- antibiotic tablets and ointment, morphine tablets, more packing and gauze and lastly, a thermometer in case he can’t find Steve’s. ‘Oh he has one, trust me,’ he’d told the doctor – utterly sure he was right and surprised he hadn’t come upon it yet as many times as he’d stayed over. Perversely that one innocent thought slams him with a frightening one. Would they ever sleep together again?

His exhausted body rescues him from thinking any more horrible thoughts with a weak-kneed, dizzy feeling that forces him to grab the sink and focus everything he has on staying upright . He waits for his head to clear then walks cautiously back to the bedroom, relieved to see that Steve hasn’t moved and his breathing is still deep and slow.

Still lightheaded, he collapses into the wingback chair he’s made fun of every time he can. _Seriously? You like this chair?_ Of course Steve liked it; it had been his father's.

A pair of boxer briefs draped over the chair's threadbare armrest catches his eyes. He fingers the soft cotton and pulls on the elastic waistband. Steve's musky scent suddenly teases his nose and, just as suddenly, he's seeing another pair of boxers - the one Wo Fat had cut off of him. He sees Steve fighting the indignity, angry and full of rage. He sees his body writhing and twisting, his muscles rippling and corded neck veins bulging.

He wants to put his fist through the wall.

The juxtaposition of that warm familiar muskiness with a memory of such a brutal assault is pure agony.

God damn bastard.

The sob that bubbles out of Danny's throat feels like it could choke him-like it's going to be followed by more that are even worse. Hot tears splash down on his hands as he clutches the boxers.

If only he could have done something.

A blurred glimpse of the photos lined up on the dresser is all it takes to short circuit the storm trying to overtake him. First there's the one of Steve with his father- in front of that damned car Steve was still trying to put back together. The next one is a heartbreaker-his mom and dad when they were first married-so handsome, so beautiful. The features that make Steve's face so amazing are all there in his parents' on-top-of-the-world smiles. The last one is another kind of heartbreaker- his family, all four of them just before his mother was killed.

So damn much loss.

So damn much pain.

It's suddenly clear to Danny; he doesn’t have the luxury of giving in to his own, insignificant pain right now. There’ll be time later if he wants to have a pity party for himself. Right now Steve needs him firing on all cylinders–not sniffing and red eyed. Wiping his nose with the back of his hand he tells himself to stop crying and does.

The next order he gives himself is triggered by the burning grittiness in his eyes. Steve will be out for at least three hours according to Daniels. He sets his phone to wake him up in two and is asleep a minute later.

_____~_______

“Hey buddy- welcome back.”

Danny had moved over to sit on the edge of the bed a few minutes ago when Steve showed the first signs of waking up. Now he’s gently rubbing his back as he watches him try to open his eyes. The way he’s curled up on his side, bare chested, sheet tangled around him, is deceivingly peaceful looking.

At first there’s a blessed lull before re-entry.

Steve’s long lashes blink open and his two incredible grey blue eyes stare blankly at Danny. The nightmare comes back to him slowly but steadily, clouding his eyes and lining his forehead with deep furrows. When the entirety of the ordeal has fleshed itself out he presses his face into the pillow and groans.

“It’s okay, Steve. You’re going to be okay. You're going to get through this.”

“I…know”

His muffled response is fast and unbearably hollow.

“No, babe, you don’t know. There’s no way you can know or even imagine that you will but you got to trust me. You will get through this.”

A sound comes from the pillow that's something like a choked grunt. Steve’s breathing quickens.

“Are you hurting?”

“N….no”

Danny gently massages the tensed muscles in his shoulders, “Well if you start to, I’ve got the good stuff- you let me know.”

Steve nods.

It's probably not the right time but he can't stand seeing him like this for one more second, "That bastard did what he did to your body- just your body Steve. That’s the way you have to think of it–you can’t let him mess with your head.”

Steve surprises him by suddenly rolling onto his back and rearing up on his elbows, “How the hell do you know what I have to do, Danny? “ His eyes blaze, “Did that bastard ram his dick into you? Did he slap your ass and purr for you to open up and let him in? Did he? Did he!”

“No. God no. He did it to you Steve. I know that and I know you’re the one hurting … the one who’s been –

“Raped? Say it Danny. Raped!”

“Raped.” He half chokes, half sobs the word.

Steve drops back down, depleted of any energy his rage had delivered, “Look I’m sorry … I’m not mad at ….you. I just, I ….just-”

“Need to scream at someone? I know. It’s okay. I’m all yours. Ditto if you need someone to punch.”

Steve shakes his head .

“No I mean it- instead of putting your fist through every wall in this house, just let me have it. We Jersey boys are a lot tougher than you think.”

“I’m not going to take it out on you Danny.”

“But I want you to. I want you to scream at me and hit me and rage at the moon and stars and whatever else you want to– otherwise you will take it out on me without even knowing you’re doing it. The sob he’s been battling wins out but he talks through it, “You’ll get ... quiet and pull away … and pretty soon forget everything we have and I’ll … I’ll lose you.” Covering his face with his hands he hunches over, helpless to stop the sobs racking his shoulders.

It had to hurt to do it but Steve reaches over, pulling Danny close and scooting backward to make room for both of them on the bed. “Come here,”

Danny lets himself be drawn into what used to be such an achingly wonderful position, spooned up against Steve, feeling his crotch press against his bottom and his leg drape over him It's the same rock hard chest behind his back but instead of an instantly aching groin, it's his chest that feels ready to burst. Steve holds on to him and the sobs finally ease up.

“Look at me - a lot of good I am…you’ve been through hell and here I am crying like a baby.”

Steve’s gruff snort and chin brushing back and forth over his head almost make him believe they'll get through this. They lay without talking for a while, both of them searching for handholds. He feels Steve shift up on his elbow, still right behind him and still close. When he speaks, his voice is different, though,“Listen, I need to ask you a question-”

“So what, you’re waiting for my permission?”

“No, I’m just … choosing my words”

“Okay then choose - “ It was all he could do not to roll over to study his face.

“Ok, I will. How come you're such an expert about this; about how it's going to make me feel and what it might make me do?”

How in God’s name does he figure shit like this out?

Danny feels Steve’s broad hand come around and smooth over his chest; feels his own throat tighten. Steve’s lips brush over his ear, “I’m asking you, Danny, because I’m getting this strange feeling that you just might have had some kind of … first hand experience?”

Steve's hand settles protectively over Danny’s heart.

It’s all Danny can do to breathe and brace for the flood of carefully buried memories that he feels coming at him.

“Danny, answer me.”

The tremble in Steve’s voice opens the locker of memories he’s so carefully avoided. He rolls onto his back, needing to see Steve's eyes. “You’re right – I know what you’re going through because … someone I loved … went through the same hell.”

Steve’s forehead furrows but his expression tells him to go on.

“It was after Rachel and I split. He was a cop too, just like me, new to the force though, just moved back east from LA. We became close, fast-for lots of reasons. We talked about having a future together, maybe even adopting a kid. He was amazing with Gracie, she …she loved the hell out of him, just like I did.”

“So what happened?”

“He was undercover investigating a gang operating out of Newark-a tough as shit collection of mother fuckers.” Danny’s voice deadened as he continued; his eyes went out of focus, “Long story short, they found out he was a cop. Instead of killing him, decided to teach him a lesson. If anything can be worse than what you just went through, what they did to him was. There were five of them. It lasted about five hours from what we pieced together. He spent two weeks in the hospital.”

“I’m sorry, Danny.”

“Don’t be. I’m sorry to dump this on you but you and your God damn mind reading forced me to.”

“So what happened… after… after the hospital?”

“Just like I said, he shut me out and got all quiet and didn’t want me to touch him or even talk to him. I begged him to see someone, to talk to someone but he refused. The department eventually forced him to do it but he only gave the therapist lip service- he was good like that – could fool his own mother into thinking he was okay if he wanted to.”

“So you guys split up?”

“No. He split. He never said good bye; he just walked away from me, from the job, from everything. I went to his place when the Lieutenant called one day and said he hadn’t shown up for work- I was scared out of my mind when I let myself in. It turned out I didn’t have to be; there was nothing there- no Sean, no Sean’s furniture, no Sean’s clothes, just an empty apartment. I spent months trying to track him down- even flew to LA and checked out friends and places he’d told me about, but…nothing.”

“And you’re scared I’m going to do something like that?”

“You bet I’m scared. Make that I’m fucking terrified.”

Steve stares at the ceiling for a minute then turns to face Danny, “I don’t know exactly what I’m going to do or how I’m going to feel in the next days and weeks, but I do know I will never walk out on you…on us. You’re just going to have to give me some time to work through this."

“I know. I will.”

“I feel like the bastard’s still inside me, in my head, in my gut – I can still smell his cologne and feel him slapping against me. I feel like I’m…”

“Like you’re what?”

“Like I’m...dirty.”

“Well you aren’t. What Wo Fat did is going to make you feel all kinds of horrible but you have to tell yourself you're the same person ...that you're not going to let him change who you are. You're going to have to talk about it too. Whatever you do, you can't bottle it up Steve … trust me, it will kill you … it will kill us.”

The eyes staring back at him are a horrible mix of anger and helplessness.

“Let it out? What do you mean? Go talk to a damn shrink like your Sean did? Lot of help that was-”

“No, stop. I’m not saying you have to see a therapist- not unless you want to. You just have to talk to someone about what happened. It can be me if you want or it can be Chin or anyone.”

“And what exactly am I supposed to say? “

“Well for starters – what happened.”

“You mean rehash ever disgusting detail?”

“Sorta but-”

“But what?”

“But not just the what, the how- as in how you felt.”

Steve drops back against the pillows with a groan, draping an arm over his eyes and letting his loud and clear body language fill the silence. When he does speak, his voice has gone flat and hollow again, “I can’t see how telling you just how God awful it felt to have that bastard's dick in me would do any good.”

“That’s a start, babe. You said it felt God awful-”

“Don’t play with me Danny."

“I’m not, go on.“

“Okay fine. So yeah, it felt God awful. And you know what else? It was nothing like when we do it. Before he started I told myself I’d be okay since it wasn't the first time. At least the bastard wouldn’t hurt me, I stupidly told myself. But he did. It hurt like hell. He was huge and I was dry. He just tapped that goddamn slab of flesh on my backside then rammed it into me. I didn’t want to scream the way I did– I didn’t want to give him the pleasure but I couldn’t help it.”

“What he did to you- the way it must have felt ... I can't believe you ever stopped screaming." .

As if he hadn't even heard Danny, “I guess it even hurt him because that’s when he made his boys dig around until they found that oil - the smell reminded me of …. my dad’s garage. Thank God he’s not around to know that I got my ass plowed by the bastard.”

“What would he say if he did know?”

“All the right things- that he’s sorry, that Wo Fat is going to pay …”

“And?”

“And what?”

“It sounds like you think there’d be other things, things he’d think but not say-”

“No not really, but he’d treat me differently …look at me differently, you know, like I was damaged goods.”

“We’re all damaged goods, babe.”

“Maybe - but not in the same way.”

“You’re right. What I’m saying, I guess, is that it’s not a horrible thing for people to know you’ve been through hell and to treat you a little differently for a while. You and me … we hate that … we want to be all macho, all in control and on top of things. The thing is we’re human– we break, we bend, sometimes we need to be propped up until we heal. It’s not a bad thing.”

“I hear you Danny… I don’t know what to say though.”

“That's okay. You want to stop now?”

“We’re done aren’t we? I mean I just told you everything.”

“Not really “

“What else is there?”

“Well when he started in again… was it any more bearable?”

After a pained snort, “Bearable? Marginally, maybe. I mean at least he could get inside me without making me feel like I was being ripped apart but that just gave him carte blanc to act like a damn bull, ramming in me so deep my gut ached. Right before Chin got there I was starting to see stars, I … I thought I was going to pass out.”

“The bastard. All I can think about is how I want to get my hands around his throat and squeeze the ever loving life out of him.”

Steve still has his arm over his eyes but sounds a little stronger, “It’s funny when I think about revenge I don’t think about wanting him dead.”

“What do you think about?”

“That I want to turn the tables on him."

“You mean you want to–"

"Not me." Steve shifts up on his side so they face each other, “I don't want to do it. I don't even want to see it. I just want to know that someone, someone huge, is fucking him like he did me-ramming their cock so high up his ass he says ahh and sticks out his tongue.”

A giggle bubbles out of Danny, “Now that’s what I call revenge." He giggles again and repeats his favorite part, '...so high up his ass he says ahh and sticks out his tongue.' Where'd you come up that? Is it a something you SEALs used to say?"

“No Danny it’s my way of describing exactly what the bastard deserves.”

“Well I gotta say; I like it.” Danny huffs appreciatively, amazed at where the conversation has detoured and the lightness in both of their voices. “You know something?”

“What?”

“You’re doing a hell of a good job talking about this.”

“Thank you Dr. Freud.”

“Very funny. No I mean it. It’s got to be hard as hell but if you can just keep doing what you’re doing and not let what happened become a horrible little secret that no one but you knows, then I think we have a pretty good chance of driving each other crazy for a long, long time, at least until Gracie is buying us diapers.

“Speak for yourself about the diapers.”

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know. SEALs don’t age like all us other poor smucks?”

“I’m just saying no matter how old I am l don’t plan to be peeing myself.”

He sounds like the old McGarrett. He even almost looks like him. Danny shifts closer so their faces are inches apart. The kiss he gives him is light and fast- more of a peck than anything but afterwards Steve lets out a little sigh. Danny presses his forehead against Steve’s, telling him without words how it would kill him to lose him. After a minute he leans back when he senses Steve tense up. “Hey, I saw that look on your face, you’re hurting aren’t you?”

“Christ what is it with you and the looks on my face.”

“Just tell me the truth, damn it. Are you hurting?”

“Maybe a little.”

“Maybe enough to need a pill?”

“I guess.”

“Well what the hell are you waiting for? In this country we tell someone when we hurt. We don’t just lay there and suffer-”

“Just get the damn pill, Danny."

“That’s more like it.”


End file.
